


Here With Me

by nemetonhills



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, post 3b
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 17:13:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9912770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nemetonhills/pseuds/nemetonhills
Summary: The last time he saw Scott was the night he died. He didn't know what was happening at the time; he was unconcious and could barely find the strength to move on. When he opened his eyes, Lydia was sobbing on his chest, clenching the him of his shirt. The only words he could gather were “Lydia, what’s wrong?”In which Scott and Allison were emotionally and physically linked, and when Allison died, Scott was gone, too.





	

**I.**

He couldn’t breathe.

You know that feeling when all you can feel is pain, both physical and emotional? Stiles was barely able to collect himself. The nogitsune had twisted his way into his life, creating a permanent darkness that he couldn’t fight — just like Deaton had told him that night he decided to sacrifice himself to find the Nemeton with Allison and Scott.

Allison. And _Scott_.

He thought he’d be able to take care of himself and Lydia when he told him that it would be okay in those tunnels, that Scott was a werewolf and Allison was a skilled huntress; that they’d be able to find a way and manage — manage to survive. He thought he knew everything there is to know about the supernatural world of lycanthropy, but he didn’t. He should’ve known. 

He should’ve known that links were stronger than tethers and anchors.

 

**II.**

“So, you’re still not showing up?” 

“Lydia, I don’t think I can. I... I don’t think I ever will, okay? At least not for a while,” he huffed through his phone. 

He appreciated the concern, really. No one has been there for him since except Lydia. He felt bad sometimes... She was struggling on her own, hearing voices and not having anyone around to help her out with the whole Banshee issue except for Meredith, who she barely even saw, anyways.

He couldn’t understand how she’d dealt with it, either. It’s been months, but somehow he still wasn’t okay. 

He never could be. 

 

**III.**

He tossed and turned for hours, unable to find the silence that would help him close his eyes. So he got up. He turned his Jeep on and filled the fuel just before riding off into the darkness.

The woods. 

He remembered when Scott was first a werewolf, the only place he could manage to clear his head was the Beacon Hills Preserve. Stiles had forgotten how many hunters he’d almost ran into here, how many lives he’d saved with the Pack like Malia’s, how many crimes he’d solved and found the answer to with Scott here.

Scott. 

He missed him. 

He couldn’t miss him much more than he already did or he’d lose his mind. Every fiber of his being yearned just to see him again, to feel him, to love him again. 

And that’s what he regretted the most: he never told him he loved him. Because Scott died, and Stiles knew he’d never love anyone as hard again. 

He got off the rock he was sitting on and fixed the dent of his Jeep, just before climbing in it when he heard a voice.

He thought he was dreaming, so he pinched himself but that didn’t make it any better. The voice kept calling his name, reaching out to him. He knew that voice, he played it in his head ever since that night. And God, he hoped he wasn’t dreaming. 

Stiles was pretty sure he’d never turned around faster than he’d did in that moment... In that moment, he saw him, standing there; looking at him and figuring out his face like it was some sort of puzzle, like it needed to be put together — piece by piece.

“Stiles?” Whispered the boy he loved.

He tried to reply, to form a proper sentence, to at least speak a letter but he couldn’t. So he just moved, inching himself closer to him, and then he let him self fall.

“I thought you were _dead_.”

 

**IV.**

“Are you real?” He spoke again. He needed to ask. 

He didn’t care if he wasn’t, all he cared about in this moment was telling him how much he’d missed him. He needed to know he was okay, even if he was in one world and Scott was in another. 

“Stiles, look at me, I’m here. I... I can’t remember how I got out but I did. I snapped out of it,” blinked Scott, still looking at Stiles the first time he’d seen him. 

Stiles, who had his mouth wide open hadn’t noticed that Scott was naked. He wasn’t sure how that had happened since the last time he was in a casket, he was fully covered. He grabbed the extra set he carried in the back of his Jeep and gave them to the wolf standing in front of him. 

“Thanks.”

“You were dead, Scott,” Stiles blurted out. “I saw them lower you into that casket.”

Scott never took his eyes off of him.

“Your heart stopped beating!” He was collapsing now, letting out every single pang of pain he’d felt all this time break out. 

“Hey... Hey, shhh. Stiles,” Scott quickly wrapped his arm around the boy who was weeping. “Stiles, look at me. I’m not dead, okay? You have me, and I’m here right in front of you.”

“I don’t wanna lose you again,” Stiles sniffed, holding back the tears who were ready to fall from his eyes.

“You won’t. You never will.”

 

When they’d both settled on Stiles’ floor, the silence was irritating all of a sudden, which was weird because they somehow still used to talk through it before, but this time was different. 

“How is everyone?” Scott lifted his eyes off the floor.

“Lydia’s getting through it day by day, thanks to Meredith. Kira left town,” he looked at Scott, “long story,” he continued, “and Derek’s been giving Malia the whole werecoyote 101 thing with the help of Isaac. She’s been losing control with shifting.”

“When did all of this happen?”

“When you died,” he paused and furrowed his eyebrows. “I guess not. I don’t know. Y’know, I still don’t get what happened to you... You said you did die and then somehow opened your eyes again the last full moon, which was a day ago.”

“Right,” Scott nodded. “That’s what happened, Stiles. I told you I didn’t know what triggered it or how exactly it happened... but it happened.”

“Melissa should probably know. That you’re alive, I mean.”

“I know, I’ll tell her all of it.”

“No, I mean like right now. Like you should go and tell her now or else she’ll kill you and I don’t feel like going to Morrell’s sessions again,” Stiles shook his head.

“Stiles,” the alpha werewolf held his intense gaze, “I’ll tell her. But you’ve gotta tell me, first.”

“Tell you what?” He shook his head.

“Why you never said it.”

Stiles knew what Scott was talking about. He knew because the feeling was still there and that it was never going to go away. He knew he had to tell him eventually, and he knew that now was the time. 

He took a deep breath. “I wanted to. God, Scott, I really wanted to. But you were still in love with Allison and I was too much of a goody-goody and I was scared of telling you of what I felt because I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same way I did.”

Scott furrowed his eyebrows, still listening. “Stiles, I loved Allison. I still do and I always will because who doesn’t love Allison?” He chuckled and Stiles let out a laugh, too for what felt like the longest time in a while. “But, I don’t feel what I felt for her before now. Okay?”

He nodded.

“Stiles, we’ve known each other longer than we’ve known anyone else — longer than we’ve known our own pack members. You can tell me anything, I’ll listen. I won’t shut you down or push your feelings away, because...” He paused, grabbing Stiles’ hands and holding them with his. 

“Because I love you, too.”

He’d never felt warmer. 

“So, uh, how long? I mean, since when did all of this happen?” He wanted to know Scott’s side of the story as well. 

 

“The day you built that sand castle with me,” he said. “I knew I loved you then, I was sure of it. I was just waiting for you to ask,” he got off the hard floor and smiled at Stiles, who stood up with him, ready to walk him out the door.

“I hate you, you know that?” Stiles was smirking at him. 

“Love me,” replied Scott, walking away, and Stiles couldn’t stop himself from smiling like an idiot. 

“Oh, and Stiles?” Scott called while taking Stiles’ phone from his hands and turning on the Camera to place Stiles’ lips on his.

“Instagram that shit.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yay to my first-ever Sciles fic! I hope you all enjoyed this. Please let me know your thoughts and if I should continue to write more of these idiots in love. :)


End file.
